


Descent

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Descent

1  
\---

"Why are you here?"

The words are contemptious, condescending- but there is a curiousity behind it, a spark of interest; and just for a moment, she doesn't know how to answer.

She's here for so many reasons- the man standing next to her, whom she calls 'friend'; the quiet relayed orders from her superiors, the cold thin recording device resting close to her heart; but beyond it all, deep and hidden under everything else- there is a curiousity.

She replies with none of these, of course, and although her hands shake ever so slightly at the sheer disrespect she is showing to a superior- a Sith, nonetheless- she doesn't falter, feigning confidence as well as she can.

 

2  
\---

She listens, from above the room, her presence is shielded- and she pretends to study the archive reports, though her focus is concentrated on the voices drifting to her from below.

_Not now, not tomorrow, not next week- but soon. Turn her to our cause._

But even as a smirk automatically finds its way to her lips, her heart beats just a little faster, and she is afraid.

 

3  
\---

She didn't expect for the enclave leader to be this woman, for sure- and much less the proud figure of the Sith Lord she had met in so many situations to be standing beside her in subservience.

Mostly, she just didn't expect to meet them again- not so quickly, at least.

Her responses are stilted; the words which slip from her mouth a lie- as is much else, and she marvels silently at how easily the Lord sees through her act.

But even as she speaks, she finds herself edging backwards- she's trapped, and the quiet whisper of fear within her grows as the conversation progresses.

Something would happen, she knew, and she would be powerless to stop it from taking place.

 

4  
\---

It's slow at first, little more than a tendril reaching towards her mind- slowly wrapping around her thoughts and dulling her sensations; it pulls at her consciousness as if a soft, numbing whisper. But her mental shields aren't strong enough- she hasn't faced anything like this before, and she can't break away.

"N-no...!"

The tendril spikes, sharpens. It rips through her mind, becoming ruthless and cruel as it tears apart her memories and thoughts, ripping away her sanity; and throughout it all, the unceasing pressure on her mind- _obey me._

_Obey me._

And something had to give. Because when a thing cannot bend, it breaks.

She let's out a cry- a scream of pain and of loss and of utter despair, but even as she collapses to the ground, even as her soul cries out; it is for a memory that she no longer knows.

 

5  
\---

Who am I?

The question reverbrates across her mind, and it scares her. She can't remember anything. Who she is, where she was born, her family- it's all... gone.

Lost.

And as she feels the aura of the Sith leave, she slumps back down, curls up in the cot she awoke in.

It hurts, it hurts so much, and as she touches her chest, her fingers digging deep into the flesh and bone which encases her beating heart, she is confused.

_Strange... but I'm sure that I didn't have a chest injury._

She curls up on her side, but she can't for whatever reason stop the shudders which rack her thin frame, and nor the quiet, harsh intakes of breath which break the silence of the otherwise empty medbay.


End file.
